


Shatter

by Arlyshawk



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Low Chaos Corvo Attano, My poor man is so done and tired, Parent Corvo Attano, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlyshawk/pseuds/Arlyshawk
Summary: *Spoilers for Mission 7, a Crack in the Slab, from Dishonored 2*Corvo Attano is many things. A father, a Protector, a Lover. But walking into the home of Aramis Stilton and using the Time Piece made him question everything he knows. What could he have changed? What could he have done?





	

**Author's Note:**

> *Spoilers for Mission 7, a Crack in the Slab, from Dishonored 2* You've been warned. 
> 
> Leandra Poole and her son, Ezekiel, are mine.

Corvo finds himself unable to sleep in the hull of the Dreadful Wale. The quiet, gentle lull of the waves makes him want to pace around like an animal in a cage, trapped, and the close quarters of it all makes tension rest too high in his shoulders. Shadows sway in the corners in the quiet of night and he thinks that perhaps, they rest easier than he ever might on this damn ship. He gets up, minding how loud the hinges are on the steel doors creak because Leandra will hear him down the hall in Hypatia's old room. Her hearing has become acute as of late, she used to never hear a thing when she slept, but now she hears him walking and it makes his heart jump when she turns and locks eyes with him. 

What he wouldn't do to go in and lay beside her on a too narrow bed and listen to the soft, silvery alto tones of her voice. He can almost imagine it in the back of his mind, the way her eyes wrinkle at the edges when she smiles at him and the ghostly scrape of her nails as she runs her fingers through his hair. His mind shifts to Jessamine, when she would braid his hair out of habit and then beg him to keep the ones that pretended to stay. 

He climbs the stairs and ignores the dull, throbbing pain that twists on the side of his leg from a misstep traveling between timelines. One minute, he'd been trying to hide from guards, the next the timepiece warped him right on top of a piece of wood that was loose and it pierced his leg. The door creaks when he opens it, air whipping around him. There would be squalls out on the sea sometimes, the ones that whipped up the dust in the Batista District. The wind is warm as it hits his face again, warmer than the winds will ever be in Dunwall. 

Tomorrow, he heads out for the Palace of Luca Abele. He dwells on what he has done of what was out of his control, what is in his control, and what lies in other's hands. Floating between timelines in Stilton's home reminds him of what he might've been doing three years ago. Whatever he was doing pales in comparison to what he found in that study. Perhaps, if some omnipotent force had told him, he might've been more prepared, but instead he didn't. 

"Corvo?" 

His head corkscrews around to see Leandra in the doorway, golden red hair framed by dull lantern light. She wraps herself in a thin blanket that she pulls closer to her face as she approaches him, barefoot. She makes no sound like this, soft, silent and serene in the way her skirt flows around her ankles. It’s the simple white shirt that's fastened with ivory buttons to the hollow of her throat and the skirt is charcoal with delicate embroidery on the hem to resemble stars. He grimaces to himself, praying she doesn't see it, _Why'd she come out here?_ Her hand touches his arm, the feeling of the soft, yet strong grip she has is like a thread made of silver. This once, he wishes to be alone - is he being too solitary lately? - yet Leandra finds him, and for a moment he remembers how Emily would sit at his door and wait for him, singing and drawing there until he opened up. 

Her hands slip around his arms when another burst of wind gallops past, rocking the boat. She digs her fingers into his coat and tries to match the glowing lamps on the merchant ships in the distance. They flicker in the wind, flashing like messages that have no meaning until the wind falters. 

"Why are you out here so late?" 

Corvo turns his gaze down at her. 

She wilts in the heat of Karnaca. Leandra has, and always will be, his winter rose, even though the sun turns her from a deep rose to pink. In the dark, he sees the starkness of her hair that once was golden red like bright fire to softer shades of the same color, like a sunrise dying to raise the sun. Her pale fingers twist his ring he gave her, nails clicking as they graze the two diamonds. Corvo feels her gaze on him, "Not that I mind, of course. You're you, and I'm certainly in no position to judge you." 

"I remember.. sitting on the rooftops of the Batista District as a boy, watching the ships in the dark," Corvo's voice feels thick in his throat, as if something lodges itself in his throat. Leandra stops, regarding him almost curiously. "It drove my mother crazy, she'd have several fits and I swore she was going to drop dead from that."

"You did what Emily does now," She touches his hand, his marked one, tracing the small golden band that he wears in her honor. "There's a certain beauty in escapism, I can't deny that." 

And without another second, he knows he's been had. Like father, like daughter it seems. It feels like a knife in his heart to know that she reads him so easily, yet on the other hand, there's a certain amount of relief that he finds in her statement. Fifteen years, so many months spent feeling caged within his own mind like an animal after losing Jessamine. For months, that animal paces and grows more and more angry and insecure. But then.. he met Leandra. Leandra could understand his feelings, but she never could read him easily. And the more she does it, the fewer bars there are on his cage. _He loves her more for that than he feels he can express._

"You saw something in Aramis's home that I didn't see, didn't you?" She chews on her lip before shifting to lean against him. He can smell the scent of rosewood and jasmine from her hair and skin, faintly there. "What did you see?" 

"I jumped without telling you. I left you and ventured into Stilton's study and found.. a séance. While everything shifted after Aramis wasn't there, I suddenly.. wondered what I would have been doing three years ago." _Would I have been stopping Ezekiel from stripping clocks and crockery down for rivets and gears? Would I have been letting Emily daydream through meetings?_ The words stick in his throat. He takes her hand and feels her tug on it. "I just - What are you doing?" 

Leandra's pulling him toward the door and he mindlessly follows like a puppy, "Come on, you can mope in my room." 

He huffs, "Not moping, thinking." 

"Corvo Attano, you're moping and dwelling." 

_Yes, dear._

She lets him sit on her bed while she lights a lantern in the dank, cold room that was once Hypatia's. She sits beside him, taking his hand again. They're like ice in his so he holds both, his thumb running over her knuckles. Her blue eyes beg him to continue now. 

He wets his lips and continues, ignoring the clenching feeling in his chest, "I wish I could have done something to prevent this whole mess. Emily in stone, Ezekiel is trapped, Dunwall is.. not in our control." 

"We couldn't have stopped that séance that night, the Outsider never told us anything. Daud never told us anything about Delilah's entrapment in the Void, and when I would enter, I only ever spoke with the Outsider on the far reaches of his realm," Leandra squeezes his hands for emphasis. "We can't change the past, but we can change the future. We can stop Delilah, stop Karnaca from eating itself alive, give Emily _her_ throne back. I've beaten myself up for years over the fact that I couldn't spare Ezekiel from the pain that was caused from myself issued exile, but.. But I know that I can stop him from seeing anymore of it." 

She offers him a watery smile, "Do that Emily. For our family. For Dunwall." 

_For us._

Something within him breaks like fragile glass at her words. What tension is in his shoulders falls apart and he slouches toward her, no longer able to hold himself like the man he's _supposed to be_. That man is the Royal Protector, and now.. now he's a father trying to get his daughter back, a man trying to get his city back, and he feels helpless to stop the tide that swells before him. Corvo presses his face against Leandra's shoulder, nuzzling the spot where her neck and shoulder join. He can feel her pulse against the bridge of his nose, steadily beating. She's delicate to him, delicate in the way that she rubs the back of his neck and combs them through his hair. 

"I know it bothers you, my love," Leandra's voice whispers in his ear. "I worry every night over them and our home. You have fought so hard for all of these years to the point where some might give up. After this is all over, I want you to rest." 

"I can't, Lea-" 

"Corvo.. Do me this one favor and please," She pulls back and studies his face. Her eyebrows draw together and her eyes shift from calm to concern. She cups his face in her slender hands, "Rest when this is over, I beg it of you." 

Corvo sighs, "We both need to, I think." 

She nods, "I want you to sleep in here with me. Since I know you've been out prowling around at night and it isn't good for you." 

He doesn't remotely mind that idea. Even though the bed is too narrow, Leandra's been known to lay in small, almost uncomfortable spaces like some sort of cat. She undoes the pearly buttons of her blouse, folds it, and puts it where her emerald vest is. He distracts himself with undoing the binding on his left hand and removing his boots. The wound on his leg protests with so much movement now and he grits his teeth. Before too long, Leandra is sitting beside him in her shift. Offering a small smile, he lays back and lets lay in between his legs, her chin resting on his abdomen, wrapped in the blanket again. 

And it reminds him that she's the closest thing to home he has now. 


End file.
